


The Untold Perils of Bagels

by sahiya



Category: White Collar
Genre: Blood Loss, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal slices a bagel . . . and himself. (The prompt was "blood loss." If blood squicks you, give this a miss.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Untold Perils of Bagels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel/gifts).



> SECOND TO LAST FUNDRAISING FIC OH EM GEE YOU GUYS. 
> 
> Sorry. 
> 
> Thanks to Fuzzyboo for beta reading.
> 
> And, once again, I warn for blood. Not gunshot levels, but anyone who's ever seen someone hurt themselves in the kitchen knows that you don't have to get shot to bleed a lot.

Sara had to hide her momentary hesitation when Neal suggested having Peter and Elizabeth over for Sunday brunch. They hadn’t been dating that long, and a brunch double date was so . . . _coupley._ Sara wasn’t sure she wanted to do “coupley” with Neal Caffrey yet. Or ever. 

But Neal persisted, and so in the end she’d said yes, of course, but made him promise to keep it simple. No Eggs Benedict or Florentine. Just bagels, cream cheese, lox, and mimosas. Classic New York Sunday morning. 

The Sunday morning in question dawned bright and clear, one of the first really nice mornings of the year. Peter and Elizabeth showed up with two bottles of champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice, and Sara felt silly for being so nervous about the whole thing. Elizabeth was delightful, and Sara had always enjoyed Peter’s company. She liked them individually just fine. But there was something about the two of them around Neal that made her nervous. 

_Family_ , she thought, watching Neal smile at Peter as they bickered amicably about the correct champagne-to-orange juice ratio. Elizabeth and Peter were Neal’s family, whether they all knew it or not. Sara hadn’t met a boyfriend’s family in years - not even Bryan’s. They’d just never gotten around to it. 

It was easy to shake off her nerves after her first mimosa. She got down to the business of helping Neal arrange the tray of lox and slice the bagels, while Peter and Elizabeth went out to the balcony to enjoy the view. Sara was attempting to artfully arrange some sliced tomato when Neal suddenly said, “ _Shit_.”

Sara turned, eyebrows raised. Neal almost never swore. But then she saw why. 

Blood was streaming from a gash in his hand, dangerously near his wrist. “Oh my God,” she said. Neal was staring wide-eyed at his hand while blood welled, not even moving for the dishtowel that lay on the counter. Sara leapt for it and grabbed his hand, holding it above his head. “Neal?” she said, because Neal’s eyes had gone wide and unfocused. “Neal, hey, look at me.” She snapped the fingers of her free hand in front of his face. 

He finally looked at her. “Damn that hurts,” he said.

“I bet. PETER!” she called.

“No, don’t,” Neal said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to ruin brunch.”

“Too late, Caffrey,” Sara said, guiding him over to sit at the table. “You bled on the bagels.” At least the couple of them that were on the counter. She thought he’d probably been slicing one of them when it happened. 

“What’s going on - oh Jesus, Neal,” Peter said, coming in from the balcony with Elizabeth on his heels. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Neal said.

“I think he needs stitches,” Sara said. The towel in her hand was beginning to soak through. Neal looked white, though that was probably from shock. 

“And antibiotics,” Elizabeth said, looking worried. “Should we call an ambulance?”

“No,” Peter said, “let’s just take the car, it’ll be faster than waiting for an ambulance. You’d better not bleed on the upholstery, though,” he added sternly to Neal. “I just got it steam cleaned.”

“Does this have to be a group excursion?” Neal asked plaintively. 

“Yes,” Peter said flatly. 

Elizabeth handed Sara a clean towel, then bagged the blood-soaked one, holding it gingerly by one corner. “Better grab a few more,” Sara said grimly, watching as spots of red immediately soaked through. 

The stairs were a bit of a challenge, what with Sara trying to keep ahold of Neal’s hand. Neal was sort of unsteady on his feet, too, but he kept one hand on the wall and they all made it to the bottom safely. Peter had run ahead for the car, so he had it waiting when they came out of June’s front door. Sara climbed in back with Neal; Elizabeth helped her buckle Neal in, then climbed in front with Neal. 

“Do you think I got any of the tendons?” Neal asked Sara anxiously. 

“I have no idea,” Sara said, a little testily. She forced herself to soften her voice. “Can you move your fingers?”

“I don’t know,” Neal said. “It hurts too much to try, and I’m worried it’ll make it bleed more.”

It really was bleeding a _lot_. Sara thought he must’ve knicked something in his wrist for it to be bleeding so much, and what had he _done_ , anyway? She bit her lip to keep from asking, knowing it’d come out more accusatory than she wanted, and tried to rest her elbow in her opposite hand to give it some respite. 

“Dammit,” Peter said from the front seat.

“What is it?” Sara asked. 

“Construction detour,” he said, tersely, and followed the signs. “How you doing back there, Neal?” he added. “You hanging in there?”

“Yeah,” Neal said, but he sounded shaky. It was probably shock, Sara told herself, or just the sight of all that blood. She wasn’t squeamish herself, but there was a lot of it. She swapped out the bloody towel for one of the clean ones Elizabeth had grabbed. Elizabeth stayed twisted around in her seat after she’d bagged the old one, keeping her hand on Neal’s knee. 

They were on cloth #4 by the time they pulled up at the ER at Lennox Hill. Peter jumped out and came around to help. Sara and Neal climbed out slowly, but Neal wavered once he was upright. “Whoa,” he said, and would’ve fallen against the car if Peter hadn’t grabbed him, holding him upright. Fortunately someone had already seen them and was hurrying out with a wheelchair. Sara helped Neal lower himself into it and then gladly relinquished his hand to someone wearing latex gloves. 

Excessive bleeding apparently got you fast service in the ER. They whisked Neal into the back immediately, leaving Sara standing with Peter and Elizabeth in the hallway. 

“Are you all right?” Elizabeth asked her, after Peter left to find them all coffee. 

“Of course,” Sara said, even though she was glad to be sitting. The minute Neal had disappeared into the back, her knees had started to shake. 

“Do you want me to see if I can find you some scrubs?” 

“Some scrubs?” Sara said blankly, and then glanced down at herself. Blood was smeared across her silk blouse and scarf, and her hands - how hadn’t she noticed before that there was blood all over her? “Yeah, I guess that might be a good idea.”

“Come on,” Elizabeth said, smiling sympathetically. “Let’s get you cleaned up and see if we can find something for you to change into.”

Somehow, without Sara doing anything at all, Elizabeth found a nurse who not only brought her scrubs, but also brought her special soap to help with scrubbing the blood off her hands. Elizabeth stayed with her in the bathroom while she did it, and then sat with her again in the waiting area. Peter returned with three large, strong coffees, and a bag of pastries as well, since none of them had actually gotten to eat. Sara tried not to think about the blood-splattered kitchen counter. 

By the time they were finally allowed back to see Neal, Sara had managed to finish most of her coffee and pick her way through half her danish. The nurse who showed them back wouldn’t tell them anything, but he didn’t seem overly worried. Neal himself looked pale but alert. The swathe of bandages around his wrist was thick but reassuringly white. 

“Hey,” Neal said, looking chagrined. 

“Hey there,” Peter said. “You all right?”

“I guess so,” Neal said. “I nicked something, the doctor said. She said I might be kind of tired for the next day or so, but it wasn’t bad enough for me to need a transfusion or anything.”

“Good,” Peter said, and squeezed Neal’s shoulder before seating himself in the bedside chair. Elizabeth claimed the other one for herself, and Sara hovered awkwardly for a moment before perching on the edge of the bed. 

Neal didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Sorry about all the, um, bleeding. I’ll pay the dry cleaning bill.”

Sara shook her head. “No amount of dry cleaning in the world is going to save that blouse,” she said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“How’d you do it anyway?” Elizabeth asked. “Do you remember?”

Neal grimaced. “Not really, but apparently I’m not terribly unique. They see a lot more bagel-related injuries than you’d think, though I was more dramatic than most. Something about the way people tend to hold them when they slice them.”

“Wow,” Elizabeth said. “Who knew brunch could be so dangerous?”

Neal’s grimace deepened. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Stop apologizing,” Sara said, with some exasperation. “It was just an accident.” 

Immediately, she regretted it - that probably wasn’t a very supportive thing to say, but he was just acting so damn _guilty_. And yeah, maybe he should’ve been more careful, but it wasn’t like any of them was actually angry. He didn’t need to be so hangdog about it. 

But to her relief, Neal just gave her a somewhat sheepish look and said, “Right. I just - it’s a dumb way to get injured.”

 _Oh._ He wasn’t guilty, he was embarrassed. That made more sense, or at least it made more sense to her. “So you’ll be more careful next time,” Sara said, in a softer voice. 

“That’s for sure,” Neal said, and shook his head ruefully. 

The hospital sent Neal home with some antibiotics and painkillers for when the wound started to ache. Sara had expected Peter and El to just drop them off, but to her surprise they both came up with her and Neal. Elizabeth chivvied Neal out to the balcony and made him sit in one of the chaise lounges, then got on the phone to order pizza. Meanwhile, Peter broke out two pairs of rubber gloves from beneath Neal’s sink and he and Sara set to work cleaning the kitchen. It was a gross task. Sara was glad that Peter never asked if she was okay doing it; he just assumed that she was, and so she had to be. 

By the time the pizza was delivered, the kitchen was sparkling. No remnant of that morning’s disaster remained. Sara and Peter threw their rubber gloves in on top of all the rags and tied off the trash bag before sending it down the garbage chute. 

“Thanks,” Neal said to her, while Peter was in the bathroom and Elizabeth had gone downstairs to pay the pizza guy. “You didn’t have to do the clean-up.”

Sara shrugged and sipped at the glass of wine she’d poured. “Well, when you think about it, it was kind of my fault.”

Neal frowned. “How so?”

“I made you buy the bagels,” she said. “I was the one who said we had to keep it simple.”

“That’s true,” Neal allowed, a dimple showing at the corner of his mouth. “Does that mean that next time we do brunch, I’m free to make it as fancy as I want?”

Sara leaned in and kissed him. “Yes,” she said, and found herself looking forward to it. 

_Fin._


End file.
